About Me

Friday, March 16, 2018

#FLASHBACKFRIDAY: Writing Horror AND Love Stories

The public sometimes sees two of me—one is the “Stephen King
of gay horror” and that me writes books likeA Demon Inside, Blood Sacrifice, and Third Eye. This Stephen King
character is grizzled, bearded, and grumpy. You don’t want to meet up with him
in a dark alley.

The other me is much lighter, in terms of psyche. That me is
a gay romance writer. This guy, who is clean-shaven, has a smile for everyone,
and is generally in a good mood, writes love stories like Chaser, Legally Wed, Caregiver and Dinner at Home.

These two me’s have seldom been left alone in a room
together and when they have they have managed to produce books that are a
hybrid of the two, books like Dinner at the Blue Moon Cafe and Bashed. Those two combine the
sometimes-at-odds with the other combination of horror and romance.

For the first time ever, the two me’s sat down in a café in
Seattle’s free-spirited Fremont neighborhood (neutral territory because the
horror me likes the big troll statue living under one end of the Aurora
Bridge). In order to keep things, um, straight, the following
interview uses HM to indicate Horror Me and RM to indicate Romance Me. And yes,
you can romance me, anytime….

HM: So what are you doing here? Must you show up everywhere
I want to be? Christ, I can’t get a moment by myself.

RM: Sorry, but it’s a free country. I can be anywhere I
want. What’s that? A cappuccino?

HM (rolls eyes): It’s a black coffee. Drip.

RM: Well, I’m having the crème brulee latte.

HM: You would (snorts).

RM: I detect a note of disdain here.

HM: Well, there’s more than a note, Miss. Why are you
sitting down at my table? Did I invite you?

RM: No, but I belong here as much as you do.

HM: Getting back to the disdain, I have disdain for you
because you are taking over my personality and stealing my reputation. Before
you happened along with your little love stories, I was doing quite well for
myself writing about blood, gore, and things that go bump in the night. You
know, mapping out nightmare territory. I had my author photos taken in
cemeteries. People knew me for throwing a good scare into them.

RM: And they still know you for that, which is something
you’d realize if you took a good, hard look at yourself. But I am here to tell
you there is room for more than one writer under this rapidly-thinning head of
hair.

HM: But why? Why romance? It’s the antithesis of everything
I stood for.

RM: Not really. Romance, like horror, is ultimately about
strong emotion. Fear, like love, is universal. So, we are not as different as
you’d like to think.

HM: I’m not so sure about that. I write about people being
killed, people being haunted, monsters, ghouls. I don’t see how that’s much
like your la-di-da romance tales.

RM: Think of the emotions involved. The rising sense of
excitement, the increased heart rate and perspiration, the breathlessness. All
of those are present with both fear and passion.

HM: Okay, I get it. I get it. But does that mean you still
have to step on my toes? You’re ruining my reputation.

RM: Just like with love, sweetheart, there’s room for
variety, for harmony. I think we can coexist.

HM: But you seem so much more powerful lately. Just look at
the books that have come from you over the past year.

RM: You’re right.

HM: Why is that?

RM (pausing to consider and take a sip of his latte): Maybe
it’s because I’ve reached a different place in my life. I’ve reached a place
where the stories I want to tell are about something other than the terror that
life can bring, but the joy that life can bring, too.

See, for years, when you were really my dominant force, I
was consumed with finding love in my own life. And I came close many times, for
one reason or another, it never worked out. That is, until I met Bruce. He was
the one. The perfect fit. The soul mate. The one with whom I can’t imagine not
spending the rest of my days.

Once I was secure in my own personal romance, only then was
I free to write about others’. Does that make sense? I needed to confront my
fears (not just the ghastly, curl-your-hair ones), but the ones about being
alone, about maybe never making that connection that was more than just
passion, but family.

HM doesn’t say anything for a long while. He sips his coffee
and eyes me, like I’m some sort of alien—not the illegal kind, but an invader
from another planet. The kind he might write about. For a moment, I am afraid,
he will fling the coffee into my face, but then a strange thing happens—he begins
to fade away, just like the ghosts in the stories he used to pen.

Just as he’s about to disappear completely, he stops in
mid-transformation and eyes me.

HM: I get you. You were who I always wanted to be. But,
although I am fading away before your very eyes, I am not disappearing.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Follow by Email and Never Miss a Post!

Real Men. True Love.

I draw inspiration from the lives of gay men to craft stories that quicken the heartbeat, engage emotions, and keep the pages turning. Although I dabble in horror, dark suspense, and comedy, my attention always returns to the power of love. I'm addicted to books--I've written and had published more than 35 novels and counting, some of which have won awards and made it to the top of the Amazon bestseller charts. I'm forever at work on yet another book. Lambda Literary called me: "A writer that doesn't disappoint…" I live in Palm Springs, CA with my beloved husband who tries, mostly successfully, to keep me out of trouble. When I'm not writing, I'm cooking, reading, running, or traveling.

Visit (and please follow) my Amazon author page to see all the books I have waiting for you to dive into!